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Torstein Finnbakk

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Karneval. Rio de Janeiro
Karneval i Rio
Karneval i Rio

How do I change the order og footnotes in a google document? Let´s say I have placed 10 footnotes and I want to make a new footnote before nr. 1 that will be "the new nr. 1".

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Woody Allen, “Social media companies are like sharks, they’re either increasing user engagement, or dying. And what we have here, is a dead shark”.

Facebook says users are spending less time on the platform.

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Utsikt mot Torghatten.

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Movatnet. Brønnøy.

Those who think

Those who think they are stupid
are wise.
Those who think they are wise
are stupid.
... I think I'm stupid.

Torstein Finnbakk©2018

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Stephen Hawking: “I’ve come under intense pressure to keep this quiet, but too few people are hoarding too much wealth in this world. I feel it is my duty to use my mathematical knowledge to let the everyday man or woman take money out of the wealthy elite’s pockets and put it into their own.”

To a Mouse

By Robert Burns

On Turning up in Her Nest with the Plough, November, 1785
(A line in this poem gave inspiration to the title of the novel "On Mice and Men" by John Steinbeck.)

Wee, sleeket, cowran, tim’rous beastie,
O, what a panic’s in thy breastie!
Thou need na start awa sae hasty,
Wi’ bickerin brattle!
I wad be laith to rin an’ chase thee
Wi’ murd’ring pattle!

I’m truly sorry Man’s dominion
Has broken Nature’s social union,
An’ justifies that ill opinion,
Which makes thee startle,
At me, thy poor, earth-born companion,
An’ fellow-mortal!

I doubt na, whyles, but thou may thieve;
What then? poor beastie, thou maun live!
A daimen-icker in a thrave
’S a sma’ request:
I’ll get a blessin wi’ the lave,
An’ never miss ’t!

Thy wee-bit housie, too, in ruin!
It’s silly wa’s the win’s are strewin!
An’ naething, now, to big a new ane,
O’ foggage green!
An’ bleak December’s winds ensuin,
Baith snell an’ keen!

Thou saw the fields laid bare an’ waste,
An’ weary Winter comin fast,
An’ cozie here, beneath the blast,
Thou thought to dwell,
Till crash! the cruel coulter past
Out thro’ thy cell.

That wee-bit heap o’ leaves an’ stibble
Has cost thee monie a weary nibble!
Now thou’s turn’d out, for a’ thy trouble,
But house or hald,
To thole the Winter’s sleety dribble,
An’ cranreuch cauld!

But Mousie, thou art no thy-lane,
In proving foresight may be vain:
The best laid schemes o’ Mice an’ Men
Gang aft agley,
An’ lea’e us nought but grief an’ pain,
For promis’d joy!

Still, thou art blest, compar’d wi’ me!
The present only toucheth thee:
But Och! I backward cast my e’e,
On prospects drear!
An’ forward tho’ I canna see,
I guess an’ fear!

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